Feels Like Home
by chawanmushi
Summary: Gift-fic. Established Relationship. Makoto and Rin move in together. (2013 Makoto Birthday Fanworks Exchange.)


**Feels Like Home**  
for isumiilde

**Note**: Free! Iwatobi Swim Club (c) Kyo-Ani.

* * *

"Makoto," Rin begins warily, because he's not sure where he is and uncertainty makes him nervous. His eyes are covered and he's being led up a flight of creaky steps in a stairwell so narrow, their elbows are bumping into the walls. "I know I mentioned to you once or twice about wanting to use blindfolds, but I don't think it was in this sort of context."

His tone is suggestive and he can _hear_ the heat rushing up to his boyfriend's face. "_Rin_."

They make it to the top of the flight when Makoto squeezes his elbow just so and tells him, "Watch your step."

"Very funny," Rin snorts. They make it without any trips, walk a few meters, and then there's the drone of a door opening before a cool and empty draft hits them.

"Okay, take it off," Makoto says then immediately regrets it when Rin's sharp teeth are bared in a wide grin. "The blindfold, Rin. The _blindfold_."

Rin's subsequent snickering dies in an instant once the offending cloth is lifted from over his eyes. They're standing in the middle of an unfurnished apartment. Coincidentally, it's one of the ugliest places Rin has ever seen.

"So?" Makoto moves beyond the genkan to stand in the middle of it with his arms held out, and with his broad shoulders and long limbs, the apartment manages to somehow look even smaller. "What do you think?"

"What the hell is this?" Rin, meanwhile, is looking at the unfamiliar space like he's unsure if he should make his escape by leaping out of the nearest window or bolting down the stairs.

"It's our new place!"

Huh? "You're kidding."

The tatami beneath their feet is frayed on some of the edges and crinkles like old newspaper with each step they take. It's _supposed_ to be light beige in color but it's stained here and there and looks a little darker than it ought to be. Makoto notices the disgusted look twisting Rin's mouth and hastily adds that the managers will be replacing it, as well as repairing a pipe in the bathroom.

So that explains the slight sulfur smell coming from there…

"It's a fixer-upper," Makoto offers when they proceed into the kitchen.

"To say the least." Rin snorts and fiddles with the loose knob of a cupboard door. The frame tilts from the hinge.

"Don't be like that."

"Don't be like what? I'm just saying maybe Haru would like this place more than we would," Rin says, looking pointedly at the water damage on the ceiling.

"It's hard finding a place in Tokyo as is. Even with your National Team stipend and the money I make part-time, it's still tough. And to find one in an area that fits our needs is even tougher…"

Rin sniffs and tries to ignore the fact that Makoto is so right, it's almost annoying. Maybe in a few months, when the head coach realizes Rin's a lot better at the butterfly than that Sakamoto from Aomori, he'll get off the alternates list and _really_ start earning some money. Then they can move somewhere swanky. For now, he'll consider… "Where is this, anyway?"

Makoto cleverly avoided taking the train here—a taxi dropped them off and the driver was very quiet. There's a sheepish look on Makoto's face. "'Baba," he murmurs.

Takadanobaba.

Not exactly Rin's first or even his second choice district to live in Tokyo, but it's not the last either. He knows decently priced places are rare and far in between in the city so he's not about to shit on his boyfriend's parade for picking a college town.

Besides, how can he when Makoto's smiling excitedly and standing there all giddy and cute like that?

After a moment, Rin just huffs and folds his arms. "You wanted to meet Astro Boy that much? Geek."

"You're lucky I love you," Makoto rolls his eyes and continues the little tour: "It allows pets and it's walking distance to nearly everything including the train station." He pauses, green eyes sparkling and dancing when they meet Rin's. "And you want to know the best part?"

Rin says nothing, just waits for what he knows is going to happen, his heart starting to feel like he's swam the two-hundred. Twice.

Makoto closes the space between them, easily lifting Rin up by the hips onto the bare kitchen counter and stands in the spread of his thighs. Rin doesn't resist, lets the taller man make quick and short work of his buttons and a stubborn zipper. Lets his mouth brush the shell of his ear as he murmurs the rest: "It's _ours_."

And as Rin opens his mouth under Makoto's, he thinks to himself. _When do we move in?_

* * *

The following week, they move their things in.

It's a slow process—they're both too busy, Rin with the team, Makoto with school and work. Deciding what stays and what goes is more of a headache since their things are far away in Iwatobi. They have things they're attached to and aren't easily willing to give up, but they manage to get the essentials just fine: a bed large enough for the both of them, sans a headboard; some old appliances and linens from their mothers. They pitch in for a better refrigerator and Makoto makes plans to buy the rest of the furniture when they can.

It's kind of cramped and unfinished, but they finally carve out a place for themselves.

It takes about a week, and most of their things are still in boxes, but every moment spent opening and unpacking them makes Makoto's heart smile. If life together is a book, then discovering new things is like turning the page to a new chapter.

"Rin, come here."

Makoto's giddily waving him over barely five minutes after the guy from the phone company left, work bag in tow. There's a device set next to the telephone and Makoto's finger is hovering over a red button. "Okay, when I count to three, I want you to say 'and Rin,' okay? One, two—"

On three, Rin doesn't say anything except, "why not just leave the default message?"

Makoto sighs and presses 'stop' on the recorder. "So when someone calls us, they'll know it's us."

"Isn't it the same anyway? They'll know it's us because of the number they dial."

"It's not the same, Rin. This message is _us_."

Rin just laughs and shakes his head. Makoto, he thinks, is strange and sentimental. About everything, it seems like. He first starts noticing just how strange and sentimental he is after his first trip to the store to buy necessities; Makoto returned with new red and green slippers and arranged them neatly in the genkan.

"To spice up the place," he says sheepishly when Rin also asks him about the monogram "R" and "M" towels in the bathroom that same day.

When Makoto learns Rin loves When in Rome, he (roughly) learns the chorus to _The Promise_ and sings it in the shower and hums it when he washes the dishes, horrible English and all. Makoto wakes up first every morning—even on his off days—and greets him with a toothpaste-fresh kiss. If time permits, he'll make him breakfast or lunch to take with him to the aquatic center; other times, when Rin just wants to jog, he'll join him or, at the very least, make him a cup of coffee before he goes, because he quickly learns Rin prefers its strength over tea.

It's not just the coffee or music, either. Makoto knows so much more about him. Rin isn't sure if that's a matter of how obvious he is with some things—like his admittedly insane collection of pillows or how he sleeps with one between his knees for back and hip support—or just how much attention Makoto pays to what he likes and doesn't like. Because it's not just a coincidence how Makoto only buys cinnamon floss after Rin returns from a visit to the dentist and offhandedly mentions loving the flavor.

Maybe it's both.

Rin mentions how creepy it is. And as Makoto chuckles softly and makes his favorite tonkatsu dinner, Rin tries to hide his blush. His heart's smiling too.

* * *

Their second weekend, however, marks the end of their peaceful honeymoon chapter.

All good things come to an end, eventually. The point is driven home further on the day Makoto returns from a trip to IKEA and corrals Rin from the bedroom into helping him set things up. He tries to ignore the dark bags under Rin's eyes and the add-on scowl, and the fact that he's been pretty much wearing them both since those freshmen moved into the house across the street earlier in the week.

'Baba is still a college district. And though he and Rin have avoided most of the problems associated with that, they couldn't ever hope to prepare themselves for the nightly parties and excessive techno music.

"Just try to block it out," Makoto murmurs into Rin's hair every night.

Easy for him to say, he knows. He's more of the type to ignore things beyond his control. Rin isn't, and there aren't enough pillows in the world (or in his collection) that can drown out the noise.

Something's brewing there between them like a kettle and Makoto chooses to ignore the whistling in favor of putting together a shelf. They've been trying it for the past hour with no success. "Okay, it says here," he reads from the instruction booklet that came with the shelf, "to insert tab C into slot B."

There's a panel in one of Rin's hands and one rod in the other and neither of them seem to want to work with each other. "I did," he grumbles.

"Are you sure?" Makoto rotates the booklet around and re-reads the instructions.

"Of course I am. Tab C into slot B. I'm not deaf, crazy as it sounds." He emphasizes 'deaf', as if to drive another point home. Rin rolls his eyes, his hand held out. "Let me see that."

Makoto warily hands the booklet over and Rin skims through it. After a moment, he throws his hands up. "Ah, well there you go. You didn't say it had to be the hexagonal ones instead of the square ones. Now we have to start over."

Disappointment mars Makoto's face. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Just forget it," Rin mutters as he starts to undo a long morning's worth of mistakes. "It was bound to happen, anyway. IKEA and all. Whose idea was it to get this stuff from there, anyway?"

"Mine," Makoto says, perhaps a bit too tersely, because Rin's now shooting a would-be glare in his direction. He knows of Rin's legendary temper, has witnessed it unleashed on others firsthand, so he tries to be careful and keeps his voice even. "I asked you three times to come furniture shopping with me since you didn't want to go to the recycle-shop down the street. You wanted to sleep in, instead."

The fuse is lit and it's smoldering now. "Because this is the only time I even get to sleep. I feel like a fucking vampire."

"Don't yell," Makoto whispers harshly, "you'll disturb the neighbors."

"Good! Maybe they'll know what it feels like for a change!"

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, in fact, I do. I can't stand this shitty neighborhood."

"I kind of like it," Makoto tries to be placid.

Rin rolls his eyes. "Of course you do. You picked it out."

Makoto shoots him a look. "Well, I wasn't having much help."

"I was busy." Rin's voice is low and even there. The calm before the storm. Any minute and the fuse will explode.

"You're always busy," Makoto mutters without thinking and he regrets it a breath later.

Rin's eyes widen and he shoots to a stand, towering over Makoto despite their height differences otherwise. "You know what? Forget this shit." He throws his jacket on and storms over to the door, making a point to kick the shelf box over on the way.

"Rin!" Makoto's scrambling to his feet, already thinking of a million apologies yet his mouth can't form a single one. "Where are you going? It's not done."

"To busy myself."

The door slams.

* * *

Rin is on his fourth gin and tonic when Gou decides he's finally had enough and threatens the bar tender if he comes by their little table one more time. Rin's not quite drunk, they both know this, but he's got a good buzz going, and that's never a good sign if his whole reason for even inviting his sister for some takoyaki and drinks was to let off some steam.

"So how 'bout it?" He twirls his ice around in his glass, watches the cubes swish around then groans when it starts to make him dizzy. "Can I stay with you?"

Gou fixes him with an expectant look. "Um, women's university?"

Oh, right. Rin shrugs. "So?"

Gou rolls her eyes. "Oniichan, just go back to your place where your loving boyfriend is waiting for you."

"He's mad at me."

"Impossible. Makoto-senpai is incapable of being mad at anyone."

Gou has a point but Rin doesn't want to dwell on that. He pouts and nibbles his sharp teeth on the thin black sip stirrer. "Just whose side are you on, anyway?"

"I'm not taking sides," she says with a long-suffering sigh, "but I doubt Makoto-senpai is too angry with you to even want to talk things out."

"That's the thing," Rin mumbles, "He won't want to talk things out because it's confrontation, and he avoids it like the fucking plague. He doesn't want me going over there to let the neighbors know what's up. He'd rather just live with it and hope it goes away."

Rin slumps in his seat and adds: "For crying out loud, he doesn't even want to put up a headboard for the bed. He's worried the thumps on the wall might disturb—"

"Oniichan!" Gou's hands are earmuffs. "T-M-I! T-M-I!"

"Oh. Sorry…" With the alcohol in his bloodstream, it's easy to forget his closest friend out here in Tokyo, besides Makoto, is his little sister. It's depressing really, and he decides he needs another drink.

A quick slap to his wrist keeps him from ordering another one. Gou's glowering, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks puffing up. Just like their mother. Uh oh. "So that's it? You lose some sleep and have a little fight and suddenly you have to reevaluate your relationship with the one person that truly makes you happy?"

He hates it when Gou shoves logic and reason back into his face. "Leave me alone and let me simmer," Rin grumbles after a while, when he realizes he can't come up with an answer, "I'm cranky."

"You're silly is what you are."

It's not just silly. Pathetic, too. Rin sighs and sinks even further down in his seat. Any further, and he'll end up under the table. "What do you want me to say, Gou?"

"Just say you're sorry."

It sounds too easy and too good to be true. Rin is sober enough to admit he was a raging asshole toward Makoto earlier. Anyone else would've changed the locks and burned his stuff in effigy by now, and if Makoto did, he wouldn't blame him. But admitting something to yourself and apologizing for it to someone else are two different things. "Gou, I…can't…"

_I'm not good enough for him._

"Since when were you such a defeatist?" Gou argues shrilly. "Use gifts, flowers, candies, kitties. Anything! It's Makoto-senpai! He'll forgive you no matter what."

Rin stares at her, and she stares back, unwavering. He thinks Gou should just do the grieving world a favor and switch majors from physical education to psychology. "You think so?"

"Just go _home_, Oniichan," she murmurs.

Home. It has a warm, welcoming touch to it. But Rin isn't warm or welcoming. Makoto is.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Makoto busies himself. After solving the problem of which correctly-shaped tab went into what slot for the shelf on his own, he works on putting a dent in their collection of boxes—unpacking and setting things up here and there. When that has him revisiting his earlier argument with Rin and questioning everything, he does what he always does whenever he needs reassurance.

He calls Haruka.

Not five minutes into the conversation and he's sighing into his phone. "…and then he left—well, more like, he stormed out. I didn't want to imply anything by saying he was always busy, and I know I shouldn't have even brought it up, but…"

"You never say anything you don't mean," Haruka says on the other line. His voice is a deep hum, calm and anchoring Makoto in place. "Rin might. But not you."

Makoto sighs again. "So…what? Was it—what does Rei call it? A Frodo slip?"

"Freudian."

"Yeah, that," Makoto murmurs, "but…I didn't want to hurt his feelings or make him feel guilty, you know? He's working very hard now that he's on the National Team and he needs his rest and to focus. He's been under a lot of pressure and stress from trying to stand out more. Maybe he feels like I'm smothering him—gosh, Haru, you don't think he regrets moving in with me, do you?"

Haru yawns. "I doubt it."

"I should have never pushed for this. I should have stayed in Iwatobi. I should—"

"Don't be so melodramatic," Haru sounds annoyed. "You told him something you meant, and something that he needed to hear. Anyway, if you feel _that_ bad, apologize."

"He might shrug it off," says Makoto, but he's not convinced. Rin might have a short-temper and a sensitive side, but he's not unforgiving. Still. "You really think I should?"

"It doesn't matter what I think—it's what _you_ think."

What he thinks. He thinks those brats across the street ought to leave. He thinks he should apologize. He thinks Rin should just come home and stay home.

"Mm. You're right," Makoto smiles warmly into the phone. "Since when did you take up couples counseling?"

"Working as an assistant artist on a shoujo manga does that, I guess."

The mental image of his poker-faced friend adding the bubbles and blossom petals to a panel is so weird and incongruous, it's funny. Makoto snorts a laugh. Then there's a splash of water coming through the line.

"Haru, don't tell me you were in the bath this whole time?!"

* * *

Makoto doesn't answer on his cell phone when Rin calls, which worries Rin only slightly. He calls the land line and holds his breath as the line rings.

"_Hi! You've reached Makoto and—Rin! N-No! Stop that! I'm not done recording—!"_

There's the brief sound of fingers tickling, bodies shuffling and rolling around with soft laughter and Rin's heart squeezes tight. A 'beep' mercifully cuts it all off.

Rin realizes, finally, what Makoto meant. It's not _just_ a voice-mail prompt message.

It's _them_.

"Can I help you with something?" A sales clerk approaches him carefully from the left, and breathes easier once Rin removes his baseball cap and no longer looks like he's going to rob the place.

"Yeah, um, I need to apologize to someone," he blurts out.

The clerk tilts her head noticeably to the right, her brows furrowing beneath the rim of her glasses, and Rin thinks she's probably thinking of calling the nearest mental hospital instead of the police now.

After a while, she stands upright, face cheery. "Then you've come to the perfect place!"

"My sister said you'll be able to help..."

"Yes, she's right, and I have just the perfect way for you to apologize to your girlfriend. Once she sees one of them, she'll be silly to not forgive you."

Rin rubs the back of his neck and follows to keep up with the clerk. "Yeah, about that..."

* * *

It's late—very late—when Rin gets off the train at Takadanobaba Station. It's unusually quiet on their block and he tries not to let his mind linger on that too long.

Makoto's already home. He's fallen asleep on the couch while watching TV, one knee drawn up, his glasses still on, and his hand is outstretched, the remote hanging precariously from it. He looks so angelic.

Rin sets the gift box down by his sneakers and thinks of being selfish and interrupting that display of pure and utter peace until an unfamiliar shadow against the wall stops him cold in his tracks.

The shelf is set up. On it are all of Rin's swimming memorabilia and trinkets. Things like his first pair of goggles and his medals, trophies and plaques and certificates are on display—even the jokes, like the _Best Kiss in Iwatobi _trophy they won at a carnival last summer, have a place there. In the center of it all is a framed picture of Rin's father with his winning relay team. Flanking either side of it are the Iwatobi relay pictures.

His heart does that weird squeezing thing again and he doesn't even have it in him to choke back the noise it forces him to make.

Without invitation, Rin curls up on the couch with Makoto. Their angles meet perfectly, no uncomfortable poking or heavy limbs digging into places they shouldn't go. He loves laying on him like this; he's warm and feels safe. Like home.

Makoto shifts around beneath him and turns his head to look at him, his chin bumping against the top of Rin's head makes his glasses go askew. "Mm? Rin…?"

"I'm sorry."

Makoto tries to move; Rin stops him. "We're not moving," he says, forehead settling comfortably beneath the bump of his boyfriend's collarbone.

"Rin, you're kind of heavy..."

God, he's so cute it's painful. And he was mad at him _why_? "We're not moving from here, I mean." Rin is thankful he's out of his field of view. He wouldn't be able to hide how face his red is even in the dark. "Even if those brats across the way—"

"I called the police on the neighbors," Makoto murmurs, rubbing his hand down the center of Rin's back. "You...you were right. We couldn't just ignore them. As it turns out, those kids weren't even supposed to be there."

"Mm."

"I'm sorry, too."

"Don't be."

"Okay." Makoto flops. They lay in quiet. And then— "What was that?"

Rin thinks he's going to have to talk with Makoto about his fear of the dark. Honestly. "Mmn? What's what?"

"That mewling noise."

"Huh? Oh!" He darts up. "Oh shit, I almost forgot!"

Rin scrambles off of that warm and inviting body and hurries over to the gift box as Makoto's looking at him with what he's sure is the most dubious look ever. The look melts instantly when Rin carefully pries the box flap open and a calico kitten, barely three weeks old, crawls out onto his awaiting palm.

"I meant to give him to you sooner, but... Anyway, here."

Makoto looks like Christmas morning.

_This place is perfect._

* * *

Please review!


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